Alco talk
by da-lemonlollipop
Summary: Superfamily. Sooner or later all parents need to give their children a talk about drinking alcohol. Two parts. First part - kid Peter. Fluff/humor.
1. Kid Peter

"Daddy?"  
"Yeah?"  
"What's that?"

Tony looked up from his tablet at his 8-year-old son. Firstly he thought that Peter was referring to the device and it caught him surprised as Peter was already familiar with different machines and was good at dealing with them, despite his young age. But he didn't refer to the tablet. He was pointing his small finger at the glass with scotch in Tony's other hand.

"Oh.. That's.. That's daddy's drink, Peter," he answered, uncertain where this conversation will be going.  
"Aha.." the young boy took his eyes from the glass and looked at Tony. "Can I try it?" The brunet smirked a little hearing that.  
"Sorry, buddy, it's for big boys," he said in a soft voice.  
"I'm a big boy," Peter answered, slightly huffing his cheeks, insulted that his father treats him as a baby.  
"Sure, you are, but I meant like really big boys, like me or your papa," Tony explained in a calm voice, looking fondly at his son.  
"Oh.. Okay then.." he drifted corner of his eyes away from Tony. Tony followed his gaze and saw that the boy is looking at the liquor cabinet. Peter was a smart kid, even a bit too smart for his age. Surely there was already a plan in his small head that if Tony doesn't want to let him try the beverage when he asks, he would try it on his own. He couldn't let that happen.

"You know what, Pete? I think you are big enough, to try just a little."  
"Really?" Peter beamed a smile towards him.  
"Yeah," Tony smiled, placing the boy on his lap. "But just a small sip, understand?"  
"Uhm," he nodded, excited.

Tony took the glass with scotch, and placed it at Peter's mouth. The child eagerly grabbed the glass with both hands, and Tony tilted it just a little bit. Before even the alcohol could touch Peter's lips, the scent hit his nostrils. He started to cough from the strong, alcoholic scent. Tony smirked at that and placed the glass away on the table, rubbing his son's back. He was still coughing. In the next second Steve rushed into the room.

"Peter, are you alright? Are you sick?" he panicked, getting closer to his husband and son, dropping on his knees to look at Peter. Tony just rolled his eyes. Steve was overprotective. It was a miracle that Peter didn't get sick every other week. In Tony's opinion they should let Peter eat a spoon of dirt to gain some immunity, but Steve didn't want to hear about it.  
"He's fine," Tony reassured the blonde. The boy stopped coughing and smiling turned to Steve.

"Daddy gave me a drink!" he beamed. Tony stiffened. He forgot that Peter was bluntly honest, just like his papa.  
"What? What are you talking about, Peter?" Steve was looking carefully at his son. Tony tried to get Steve's attention, but before he could say anything, Peter pointed to the glass on the table.  
"He gave me this," he said smiling proudly, "Daddy said I'm a big boy and I can try it!" he continued, not being aware that he is digging his dad's grave. Steve face darkened. He swallowed hard and forced a smile on his lips.  
"That's.. That's great, Pete" Steve answered taking Peter off Tony's lap. "Hey, remember that you were supposed to visit uncle Bruce today?"  
"Can I go now?" he asked excited, he loved spending time with Bruce in his lab.  
"Sure, you can, just go into the elevator, I will tell your uncle that you're going to visit him."  
"I can take him!" Tony finally spoke, trying to get up.  
"No, you can't," Steve shot him a glare and Tony sunk further into the couch.  
"Is something wrong?" Peter asked, sensing that the atmosphere has changed.  
"Of course not, sweetie" Steve kissed his head. "Now, go to uncle Bruce".  
"Okay," Peter believed his papa and giving them both a quick kiss rushed out of the room.

Steve slowly stood up, glaring holes through Tony. "Stay here," he gritted through his teeth and turned to the intercom. He pressed the button. "Bruce? Bruce, I'm sending Peter down to you." He heard some papers rustling in the background. Bruce was working.  
"Is something wrong?" he asked.  
"No, I just need to talk with Tony." Bruce chuckled hearing that. He knew that "talk with Tony" was a synonym for "I need to give him a scolding and don't want Peter to hear that".  
"I see. Good luck, Tony!" he said amused, ending the conversation. Tony made an outraged face at Bruce's comment, but as soon as Steve turned around to face him, his expression changed. Steve stood in front of Tony, crossing his arms on his chest. Tony didn't like that.

"In my defense.." he started.  
"Don't even try it," Steve interrupted him. He was eyeing the brunet. He knew that talking with Tony doesn't give any results as he was sorry for like 30 minutes and then just shrugged it off. He had to always learn the hard way. Steve turned around from him, going into the door's direction. Tony looked worriedly after his husband. Silent treatment. Steve changed the direction and approached the liquor cabinet. He opened it and took out the scotch bottle and exited the room. Tony was sitting stunned at blonde's behavior. And then it occurred to him.

"NO!" he bolted from the couch, darting after Steve. He rushed into the kitchen where he saw Steve pouring the content of the bottle down the sink.  
"Steve, don't do it, please! This scotch is over 30 years old!" he clung to Steve's back trying to take the bottle. It wasn't a problem for Steve, to hold the smaller man at some distance with his free hand. Soon the bottle was empty and Tony leaned over Steve's back in defeat. Steve put the bottle on the counter, feeling the brunet's head on his shoulder.

"I hope you know why I did that" he said firmly.  
"Yeah, I know.." Tony muttered into his arm. Steve couldn't help but feel sorry for the brunet. He deserved it, but Steve had a soft spot for him. He turned around to give him a hug, but in the next second, Tony painfully shoved him at the counter. Steve gasped surprised as he felt the brunet grabbing his thighs, lifting him up and placing on the counter. Next his cheeks flushed as Tony's teeth started nibbling at his collarbone. Grabby hands under his shirt.  
"T-tony!" he gasped, shooting his head to the back.  
"I just realized we are alone," Tony whispered, grazing his lips over Steve's exposed neck. He gently sucked Steve's Adam apple, to which blonde responded with a soft moan.

"Please.. Tony! No, I have a headache.." he breathed. Tony's eyes immediately snapped wide open as he shifted from Steve, utter horror on his face. He had hoped to never hear this line from his husband. Steve snorted, placing his hands on Tony's hips pulling him close again.  
"I'm kidding," he flashed a grin at the brunet. He responded also with a grin.  
"Not a smart move, Rogers," he murmured, entangling fingers in Steve's blond hair to tilt his head to the back, kissing his jaw line.  
"That's.. Captain Rogers to you.." he groaned, knowing this game too well.


	2. Adult Peter

"Tony, did you know about this?"  
"Hm? Yeah, sure I knew."  
"Really? You knew that our son is drinking your alcohol?"  
"Yhm, I knew."  
"Tony!" Steve snapped, knocking his fist on his husbands head, as he was knocking at the door. He half expected to hear an empty sound. Tony looked at him surprised, turning away from the holographic screen.

"What?"  
"You're not listening to me!"  
"Oh. So, you were saying thaaat.."

Steve huffed impatiently. He hated when Tony got so entangled in his work that wasn't paying attention to anything. The whole tower could be under the attack, but all he was seeing was his screens.

"I'm talking about this, Tony" he said, showing him a half empty scotch bottle. Tony frowned.  
"E.. You want to have a drink?" he asked, confused.  
"No, you know I don't like your scotch! Just look at the bottle," Steve handed him the alcohol.

Tony was slowly turning the bottle in his hands. It looked normal to him. Then he saw that the level of alcohol is not right. A few days ago, when he last drank it, there was more. His facial expression changed.

"Why that little piece of sh-.."  
"Tony!"  
"-Snot, I meant, snot!"

He put the bottle on the table and approached the intercom, pressing the button.

"Peter, I want you to come into the living room."  
"Dad, I'm kinda busy right now!"  
"NOW!"

He heard as his son muttered something in response, and it wasn't pretty, but he knew he will obey. He turned back to Steve, still angry. Steve had this pained, worried expression.

"Steve, I think it will be better if you will leave me alone with Peter," he said in a calm voice.  
"Are you sure about that?"  
"Yeah, I'm sure."  
"Okay then," Steve gave him a quick kiss on the lips and went out, still having a worried face. Tony sat on the couch, crossing his arms on his chest, waiting for their son.

After a minute or so, Peter entered the room. He slightly stiffened, spotting the scotch bottle on the table.

"What is it, dad?"

Tony was eyeing his son. The kid was growing up. He was already 17 and was getting taller than Tony. And it was this difficult age, where he always had to have the last word. For one snappy remark coming from Tony, Peter had two in response. Sometimes Steve felt that instead of one teenager in the house he has two.

"Sit down, Peter," Tony said, pointing his head to the couch, so he would sit next to him. Peter listened to his father. Tony put his arms down and turned slightly to better look at his son.

"Peter, you are a smart kid, right?"  
"Um.. I think so.." he answered, uncertainly.  
"So you know that the smart thing will be telling me the truth, right?"  
"Probably.." he muttered, to which Tony narrowed his eyes.  
"Okay then. Are you drinking my scotch?"  
"No," Peter answered. Too quickly and too bluntly.  
"Peter," Tony growled warningly. Peter sunk further into the couch, crossing his arms.

"Okay, I am," he said crudely, casting his eyes to his lap. He heard his father sigh.

"Pete, I don't want you to drink my scotch, understand? You're still a kid.."  
"I'm not a kid," Peter snapped, still not looking at Tony.  
"Oh, I'm sorry, would you prefer me to call you 'my little man', just like your pops does?"  
"Dad.." he whined. To Tony it still sounded like a kid.  
"Okay. Peter Benjamin Parker-Rogers-Stark," he started officially. Peter snorted hearing that. Tony knew that this was enough to break the ice. "I don't want you to drink my scotch, understand?"  
"You never let me have any fun.." the teenager muttered sulkily. Tony sighed again.

"Do you even like it?"  
"What?"  
"Do you like how the scotch tastes?"  
"E.. No, not really.." Petter muttered again. He drank it because it was alcohol and he was trying to prove to himself that he is adult enough to handle scotch. But he didn't like the taste.

"That's my point, Pete, don't drink it if you don't like it. How would you feel if I was drinking your cola?" hearing that Peter looked at his dad.  
"You are drinking my cola," he said in his defense.  
"At least I make the money to buy you a new one. You have any idea how much scotch costs?"  
"Noo.."  
"A lot. The content of this bottle is older than you are. Listen Pete, the bottom line is, don't touch my scotch. You're still too young and this is heavy stuff.." Tony started and Peter felt as anger rose in him. He wasn't a kid and he won't allow to be lectured.

"… But if you still insist on drinking I don't see any contraindications to buy you some beer from time to time," Tony continued. Peter was about to snap on his dad, when the sense of those words hit him. He looked surprised at his father.

"What?" he asked dumbfounded.  
"Yeah, why not? I still rather have you drinking beer here, than with your friends in some dark alleys," Tony finished, looking slightly suspicious at his son. Peter's face scrunched with slight panic. He was hoping that it was just his father's lucky guess. Not inquiring into the topic, Tony continued talking. "Oh, I know, maybe you want some rum? Not much, just a little, it goes nicely with cola, I was drinking gallons of that stuff at your age, but still, just a little, we don't want you to turn into me," he finished with a smile remembering the years in MIT. He was drinking heavily back then, but no one cared as long as he was getting straight A's.

Peter was still looking surprised at his dad. He didn't know if he was serious or was it a trap. Before he could say anything, a very grim Steve Rogers rushed into the room, planting a hand over Tony's mouth in case the brunet wanted to say something more.

"Peter, go to your room," he said firmly. Peter looked at both his dads. Tony was looking at Steve with frowned eyebrows in confusion. This will be good.  
"Aw, but I just got here.." he whined.  
"Now, son," Steve repeated, making both men shudder. They already knew that each time Steve used the "son" card, he wasn't Steve any longer. Now they were dealing with Captain America.

"Okay.." Peter muttered, slowly getting off the couch. As he was going out from the room, he turned around to flash a smile at his dad. Tony narrowed his eyes, seeing that. That little piece of sh- snot, he meant, snot.

"We need to talk," Steve said in a low voice to his husband, taking his hand away. Tony gulped.

As Peter was walking to his room, he heard some muffled voices from the living room. He smiled to himself. He loved his family.


End file.
